AOU Clintasha Redo
by Mokikaitlyn
Summary: A lot of people have done these and most of them are pure gold, but tbh I like my idea better and no one has done it. You don't have to agree, that's what Fanfiction is for. Not publishing in order because I have no patience. All the current canon ships excepting the obvious, no slash, and I'm not good at dramatic timing.
1. Before Ultron

Coulson was on the video chat-thing when the Avengers reported for briefing.

"Something important then, if you're here, Director?" Bruce said as they walked in. Bruce, Natasha, and Cap were the only ones that ever remembered to call him Director. And Natasha only did it to tease him.

"It is, Doctor Banner, and if everyone is here I can tell you. Hello Captain Rogers."

Steve waved as he walked in.

"Alright," he continued once everyone was in and the door was shut. "As Dr. Banner guessed, this particular mission has some special significance. We have found, after much prolonged search and much danger to my agents, the location of Loki's sceptre."

"What?" Clint said.

"How?" Tony said at the same time.

"That's classified, Mr. Stark. And Barton, FitzSimmons went out into the field with guns and everything to get this information for you so if you're not prepared to handle it—"

"No sir, that's not it. I was just surprised."

"Alright then. Agent Hill, if you would?"

She nodded and turned the other screens in the room into a set of blueprints and maps.

"It's in a Hydra base in Serbia, in a research lab on a lower floor. They may be keeping powered people, specifically mutants, in this base too, but they shouldn't come into play if you don't try and take the whole base down. The absolute closest you can land the quinjet is four miles out, and if you pick the second closest place it will be six or seven miles. The base is heavily armed and they keep a perimeter at at least three miles, probably further."

"They are super proud of this base, aren't they?" Tony observed.

Coulson spoke up again. "They're keeping Loki's sceptre, mutants, and half a dozen other highly valuable projects in there. They're certainly protective."

"So what's the plan?" Cap asked.

"Our analysis suggests that you should land on the west side and get as close as you can stealthfully. If you do it right you may be able to get a mile into their defences without raising the alarm. There's no civilians anywhere near so you're free to use the Hulk. Sound good?"

"Yes ma'am," Cap said.

"Good," Coulson said. "Agent Hill will feed the coordinates into your quinjet. I wish you all the best of luck. And Romanoff?"

She looked up expectantly.

"Code red."

She shifted her weight to the middle, standing up straighter.

"Nice try, Director."

Barton reached up and tugged on one of her curls.

Natasha swore loudly and stormed out of the room. Clint snickered, Coulson smiled and Hill just rolled her eyes.

"I feel like I just missed something very important," Tony said.

"Inside joke," Clint said. "Phil thinks he's funny."

"You certainly seem to agree with him," Hill muttered.

"You terrify me," Tony said.

Agent Coulson and Strike Team Delta had a running joke that Coulson could tell when they'd been making out at inappropriate times. Natasha insisted it was dumb luck and Barton thought the whole thing was hilarious because he was right every time. In this case Natasha had a strand of hair on the wrong side of her part.

Coulson spoke again. "Alright, you're dismissed. Best of luck."

"And to you, son of Coul."

"Bye Phil!" That was Tony.

"Thanks Director." Captain America. Coulson smiled to him.

And they were off once again.

—•—•—•—

"Hey."

Clint woke up in a clearer state of mind than he expected, to find Natasha staring at him with a tellingly blank expression.

She blinked at him a few times. It was a good two minutes before she answered.

"Hello."

Not good.

"Did I scare you?" he asked, sitting up to his own surprise.

Her expression didn't change, and again it took her a second to answer.

"There was a hole in you. Not like a bullet wound, like a sizable hole."

"Sorry. To be fair you've done that before."

She didn't answer.

They sat in silence like that for a long time, taking a much needed no-talking decompression. They could have another one later, in the comfort of their own noise-proof Stark room, lying on the bed and not moving or talking, just breathing. But for now the hospital/med-bay/nurse's office would have to do.

Then it was over and there were more people in the room and a woman in a lab coat was talking to him and technobabbling. He registered everything she said and his secret-agent brain went immediately to processing every word of it. He told that part of his brain to shut up because his head hurt and he really didn't want to know now much plastic he was made of now.

"...your own girlfriend wouldn't be able to tell the difference."

"I don't have a girlfriend." He said, shooting a glance at Natasha.

She smirked. That was a good sign.

"Nope! He's flatlining, call it. Time?"

"Noo, I'm going to live forever," Clint retorted, standing up. His words were slurred and he stumbled trying to walk. Okay maybe he wasn't that okay.

People were filing back out of the room into their next adventure already, never content to sit still. They were sweeping him forward with them, and he wished they wouldn't cause his head was still spinning from standing up. And there were so many _words_ being said.

"I can tell the difference," he heard as he felt Natasha walk past. He smirked.

—•—•—•—

Clint slid up to the bar next to Bruce as Natasha made her getaway.

"She really likes you, you know."

"No, that was just flirting," Bruce said.

"Oh no, I've seen her flirt, up close and personal. Many times. That wasn't flirting, she meant every word of that."

"What? Why?"

"Why does she like you?"

"Well, yeah, I mean I'm..."

"You're a lot like she used to be. She was afraid of herself for a long time and she was afraid of everyone else and she's not anymore. She's sweet too, you wouldn't know it but she really is when she wants to be. She thinks that she can help you and it makes her really happy. Don't tell her I said any of that, she'll murder me in my sleep."

Bruce was quiet for a long moment. He finally seemed to formulate a reply and he looked up at Clint, who waited expectantly.

"Up close and personal, many times? So does that mean you two are actually, like, together?"

Clint shot him a grin that didn't answer his question and clapped Bruce on the back as he went off after Natasha. He laughed when he heard Bruce groan and smack his head on the bar.

—•—

He found Natasha avoiding conversation with people by pretending to be a member of a very large conversation. He took her waist from behind and pulled her out.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked when he turned her around.

"Dance with me."

"What? Why?"

He slid his hand around her hand and pulled the rest of her closer.

"Cause you're amazing and they're playing swing."

She put her left arm around him warily, unsure where this was going but accepting his lead anyway.

"Nobody else is dancing, Barton."

"Don't care," he mumbled into her shoulder.

He moved back and forth with the music, holding her a little too close.

"You're going to screw with the betting pool."

"That's kinda the idea."

He stepped back to spin her. When they came together again his back was straight and he was stepping with her for real.

They were killer dancers, both of them. After a few steps he started a set of spins that he didn't have to stop. He spun her about thirty times in a row and spun with her for ten of them. When they finally came back together they could hear applause coming from somewhere and were moving too fast to care where. They heard the music get louder and were vaguely aware of other couples joining them.

They didn't often dance like this, way too fast and with complete abandon. Clint was sure that if he asked, Natasha would say it was because they'd gotten too comfortable at Stark's place. It was probably true, he thought, but he couldn't help thinking that it wasn't such a bad thing. They had real friends now they they could be something like themselves around. And Stark could throw one heck of a party.

Natasha felt so right in his arms and they moved so seamlessly together that he was sure everyone in the room was going to talk. He couldn't bring himself to care. They moved like one person, swinging and stepping on the melody, breathing in time, hearts beating so hard they had to move with them, so high on the rhythm nothing could pull them down.

They didn't stop for four songs. After that Clint, who did not have any kind of advanced metabolism, seriously needed liquid of some kind. Natasha laughed at him and spun out of his arms to go find Steve and make him dance with someone, probably her. Clint was sure that however screwed up their lives may be, he was pretty darn lucky to have that woman.

—•—•—•—

.

.

.

.

.

.

 _Worthy? No._

 _How could you be worthy?_

 _._

 _You're all killers._

 _._

 _._

 _._


	2. The Farm

_Spelling fixed, thx Jedi Kay Kenobi. Would love to know how you got your name, btw._

—•—•—

Clint brought the Quinjet down gently, powered it down, and sprang out of his seat. As the rest of the Avengers shook themselves out of a groggy and exhausted half-sleep he strode to the back of the jet and knelt in front of Natasha. She was curled up in a ball on the floor with a vacant look in her eyes. He put a hand on her face oh-so-gently and brushed her hair out of her eyes.

"Hey, Tasha, we're home."

She sat up immediately, swaying a little as she did. Clint caught her and pulled her to her feet, and she let him. Checking that everyone else was standing, he led the way off the plane.

When they reached the door of the lonely white house Clint knocked.

"You think they're home?" Natasha said softly.

"Where else would they be?" Clint said.

"Well I believe they have a family somewhere. And I'm pretty sure it's something close to a holiday."

Clint nodded. Just then the door opened to reveal an honest-looking old man in a flannel shirt and boots. He grinned wide at Clint and yelled over his shoulder.

"Laura! The Bartons are home!"

The Avengers could hear several small children scream as the man let Clint and Natasha in.

"He's an agent," Tony stated as he walked through the door. A small boy appeared at full sprint and crashed into Barton's knees, hugging him tight. A girl skipped in behind him. Natasha, suddenly full of energy, pulled away from Clint to catch her and hug her. The boy detached himself from Clint to hug Natasha around the waist and his sister's knees.

"Those are...smaller agents."

Clint ruffled the girl's hair as Natasha set her down and sat on the floor with them. The children promptly began babbling to her about evidentially everything that had happened to them in the past month.

"This is a debriefing."

Clint smiled at them and turned back to the funny old guy.

"So, um," Clint started, scratching his head. "How have you been?"

"Oh, things have been just great around here. Anthony is as cocky as ever." Tony looked up and gave the man a funny look. The man didn't notice. "The west field is about ripe, we're gonna get to harvesting that in a few weeks here. Oh and I'm afraid I must tell you," the man's voice took on a somber tone and he placed a wizened hand on Clint's shoulder. "Our dear Evangeline has passed away."

Clint went from looking around the room distractedly to focusing on the man. "Oh no, I'm, I'm so sorry. Who is..."

"Clinton," Natasha called from the floor. "Evangeline is your cow."

"Oh! Oh, that's fantastic! I mean, I'm sorry, that's awful, but I thought-"

The man cut him off with a loud an deep laugh. A woman appeared just then, holding an even smaller agent, who Natasha greedily added to her pile.

"Now Mr. Barton, the man said. "Were you going to introduce me to your friends?"

"Oh yeah! Yeah!" Clint rubbed his head distractedly again. "Um, this is Tony Stark, doctor Bruce Banner, Captain Steve Rodgers, I think you know who he is, and um, Thor, the uh, well let's stick with Thor. Guys, this is Greg and Laura, and their kids Lewis, and Molly, and the little one is Natalie."

Bruce and Steve waved to the kids. Only Molly looked up, and she sank into Natasha deeper, apparently wary of strangers.

"Pleasure to meet you," Greg said, shaking everyone's hand enthusiastically.

"Clinton?" Laura said quietly while her husband shook everyone's hand and babbled to Captain America. "Will they all be sleeping here?"

"I guess so. We're in some trouble and we don't have anywhere else to go. So if you don't mind..."

"It's your house."

"You know that's not true."

She smiled softly at him.

"We'll be fine. Do you want me to turn down the guest bedrooms?"

"Yeah, and the sofas if you would. Doubling up isn't going to go over well. Thanks"

She nodded and left. Clint turned to Greg.

"Hey, not to be rude, but I thought it was past their bedtime?"

"Oh it is. We were just up trying to fix the shed."

Clint winced. "Eesh, sorry about that. Is it bad?"

"Oh no, Lewis could do it by himself if Laura would let him use the drill. We'll have it back together in no time. I'll get them to bed though. You all look pretty tired yourselves."

Clint nodded.

Natasha's puppy eyes were bigger than the kids' when Greg told them all it was time for bed.

"You too, Natasha," Clint added. I carried you in here and you're going to sleep, no matter how happy you look for the kids."

Natasha stuck her tongue out at him as she followed the kids up the stairs.

"The Bartons?" Tony demanded when they were gone.

"I'm slightly more concerned with where we are and what's going on," Cap said.

"No I'm pretty sure Tony's right, the Bartons are more concerning," said Bruce.

"Friend Barton, is this your home?"

"Yeah, Thor, it is. Or it was. It was my parents' place way back when, actually it was my great grandparents place but you know. But my parents kinda had their own problems to deal with and Greg here has been running the farm since I was a kid. Anyhow, then my dad pulled a gun and smashed the car into a tree, Barney and I got sent out to foster homes, then we ran off to the circus, then Barney tried to kill me, yadda yadda yadda, and anyway, Barney's dead now and the place is mine. Or really Greg and Laura's. They've been the ones running it since before my parents died. It's their place before it's mine, I just own it."

Greg was grinning at him again and patted him on the back.

"You're a good man, Clinton."

"The Bartons?" Tony demanded again.

Clint scratched his head again. "Yeah. We're, um, slightly married."

"Slightly?" Cap asked.

"Well we're professionals. We're different things to different people, so we're pretty much only married in this house. Otherwise we're just agents Barton and Romanoff."

There were general dropped jaws. Cap and Thor seemed less surprised than the others.

"So, do you guys have like, rings?" Bruce asked timidly.

"Uh, yes actually. They're up in our room. Greg and Laura gave them to us, we wouldn't otherwise."

Money was passed around, with most of it going to Thor of all people, who seemed quite proud of himself.

Laura returned just then and addressed the assembled Avengers.

"We have places for all of you to sleep, though two of you are going to have to sleep on a couch, if you don't mind."

"Ah, my lady! You have prepared a couch for the prince of Asgard! I am certain it is adequate. Lead me on!"

"I'll take the other couch," Steve added more quietly.

Laura seemed shocked, but her courteous demeanor didn't suffer for a second.

"Of course. This way."

"How come the two biggest members of our group are taking the couches?" Bruce asked when they were gone.

Tony shrugged. "I'm not complaining."

—•—•—

Eventually everyone was settled and Clint was finally able to head up to his own bed.

"Who won the bet?" A quiet voice asked when he'd shut the door.

"Thor, actually," he answered, turning and walking to the dresser. "It seemed to center around whether or not we were actually in possession of rings."

Natasha smiled. "He would guess that."

"Feeling better yet?" He asked once he'd gotten assorted combat equipment off and climbed into bed.

"A little. You're right, I just need to sleep."

He scooted closer to her and folded her up in his arms, tucking her head under his chin.

"But you don't want to?"

"Not without you."

"What would you ever do without me?" She dug her foot into his leg painfully and he squeaked.

Neither slept very well that night, her because of the nightmares that had been brought back to life and him because of her, but they managed to sleep some, and it was easier in the closest thing they knew to home and with each other.


	3. Still the farm

**_AN the second: new chapter is chapter one._**

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

 _So im largely scribbling these out when there's too many things in my head and I have to get the most obvious things out. AOU was a very frustrating movie. Im aware they aren't great, but I'm okay with that. They're in the way and I need to put them on paper. Er, the Internet. I'll get to more fun stuff, but I'm doing the Farm first. My brother and I have had a headcanon for forever that Clint owns a farm he inherited way back when and that there's a bloke named Greg who watches it. After AOU we just gave Greg a wife and kids. Tbh I didn't mind the farm or clints family in the movie at all, it's actually kinda neat, it's a very different take on him. My problem is with brutasha. Also I still like Clintasha way better._

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

The Avengers woke the next morning to find Greg, Laura, Clint, Natasha, and all the kids already awake. Greg was reading a newspaper and Laura was making pancakes. Neither of these was surprising. The surprising part was that Clint Barton was also making pancakes and Natasha Romanoff-Barton was setting the table while wearing Clint's shirt and lavender fuzzy socks and aided by a flaxen-haired six-year-old.

"Forks go on the left side, sweetheart."

"But you eat with your right hand."

"Not when you're using a knife, then it goes in your left hand."

"Oh. So it goes on the left when you're using a knife? But we aren't using knives for pancakes."

"Yeah but that's where it goes anyway. Keeps it consistent."

"Do we just assume everyone uses knives all the time? We don't even use forks all the time."

Natasha laughed. Actually laughed, not the scary dark chuckle thing she does. A genuine laugh.

"You look like you're feeling better," Steve told her as he went to join Greg with his newspapers.

"A little bit. You?" She said as she set cups out.

"Yeah, actually. It's really nice out here. It's quieter. And there's some, homey comforts," he said, gesturing to the newspapers. She smiled.

The Avengers and Greg's family were soon seated and eating blueberry pancakes happily.

"So how many people know about you two?" Tony asked with his mouth full, pointing at Clint and Natasha with his fork.

"Um, Coulson, Fury, Hill, Hill is actually where Tasha's necklace came from, aaaaannd...I think a few others have guessed, like May."

"I told Bobbi," Natasha said playfully.

Clint laughed. "You did, didn't you? That was hilarious."

"You know," Cap said, "there's a Shield betting pool for how long it's going to take for you two to get caught making out. It's a fairly resilient pool as it seems to have survived the fall of Shield."

"Yeah, we know. We find it hilarious. We keep fueling the rumors. That's just wild speculation though, it doesn't really count."

"Wait, does Shield not know you're married?" Lewis asked.

"No, they don't," Clint answered. "To them we just work together. Strike Team Delta is the best there is, but they don't know we're married. They all think we're just best friends."

"Clint and Natasha are superheroes," Molly informed their guests with pride. "They fight bad guys!"

"Do they?" Tony asked dryly.

"Yeah!" Lewis said. "You are too, aren't you Mr. Rogers? You're Captain America!"

"Uh, yeah, I am."

"Of course you know who he is."

"Lewis, all these people are superheroes. Nat and I work with them."

"What?! Which one's Spider-Man?"

Tony smacked his head into the table.

"Not him," Natasha said, "but that's Iron Man, he's the Hulk, well sort of, and he's Thor, the-"

"The god of Thunder, the prince of Azgard!" Molly volunteered.

"I see you have heard of me."

"Oh him too. Does this entire family live under a rock? Hellooo! Iron Man here!"

"Mrs. Perkins told us about you in school last week."

"Did she?"

"Sure she did, but Iron Man, nooo"

"Tony shut up."

"Are you really Thor?"

"Indeed I am."

"Alright, everyone calm down and eat your food," Laura said. People generally obeyed, with grumbled complaints from Tony on some parts.

As the day progressed most of the avengers chose recreational tasks outside. The weather was nice, the air was sweet, it made sense. Cap and Tony chopped wood, making a very one-sided competition. Clint and Greg walked around the property, Greg telling Clint everything that was going on and keeping him updated on the economics of his farm and Clint trying to listen. Laura read a book and watched the kids play in the grass. As Clint and Greg came around to where the kids were playing Lewis and Molly ran up to him.

"Dad are you done yet? We want to show Mr. Barton the plane and the fort!"

Greg laughed and released Clint, who was pulled by both hands down the hill. He was presented with a wooden and tarp fort of the kids' own design apparently, and was taken on a VIP tour of the whole complex. At the end of the tour, he was assigned the position of Darth Vader and made to fight Luke and Leia.

"Hey, guys, what are you doing to him?" Cap called when he saw what Clint was being subjected to, setting down his ax and heading down the hill.

"He's Darth Vader, we have to fight him!" they protested.

"Well," Steve said, surveying the fort and Clint's nonchalant/pleading expression. "If he's Darth Vader do you know who I am?"

"No," they said.

"I'm the emperor."

"AHHHH! Run!" Steve proceeded to chase the children around the fort.

Steve got way too into the game and Clint started to leave around the time Tony volunteered to be Han Solo and little Natalie was named Yoda. Or he tried to leave. Apparently it was time for a duel.

"Are you going to join in?"

Bruce was standing on the porch watching the epic saga unfold at the bottom of the hill. The voice was Natasha's.

"I don't know if I can right now."

"Still shaken up about what happened yesterday?"

Bruce nodded. Natasha went around him to sit on the porch railing beside him.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop you."

"It's not your fault. I shouldn't have-" he stopped.

"You shouldn't have what?"

"I shouldn't be here. I'm not a hero, I'm a monster. All I can do is kill. You keep me around for my destructive capacity. This, this-" he gestured to the farm and children. "This is not me. I can't have this. Peace is not, I don't facilitate peace, I can only ever have chaos and its-"

His eyes landed on her face and he stopped. She was hard and cold now. This wasn't Natasha, this was the Black Widow, or even someone else he hadn't met before.

"Bruce, I'm not a hero either. I have killed so many people, so many more than you ever have. I've shot children in cold blood. I haven't just killed people, I've tortured them. I've listened to people scream and liked it. I am a machine, I was built for war and chaos. It's the only thing I know. I can't have children, physically cannot. It's part of who the red room made me. You think you're the only monster in this team but you're not. Even the hulk is kind and compassionate if you let him be. He only hurts people to defend himself. Killing is a way of life for me. My whole world is death, inside and out. You are an amazing person, and so is the Hulk. The Hulk has no capacity to harm people that have no intention of harming him. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

Bruce was stunned. "I, I don't even know what to say, I'm sorry-"

"Don't be. And don't be scared of the kids either," she said, getting up and resuming a casual tone.

"They're good kids, they have a way with making people better. And you know what Bruce? You're really not a bad guy."

She left, closing the door behind her.

—•—•—

"You told me you were okay!" Clint said loudly when they were alone in their room that evening.

Natasha replied conversationally without looking up. "What makes you think I'm not okay?"

"Bruce told me what you told him." He didn't lower his voice.

"Did he? That doesn't seem like him." She still didn't look up.

"No, but I can guess."

"Good for you."

"Natasha!" He took her by the shoulders and made her look at him. She did so as casually as possible.

"You haven't been this bad in years. You're supposed to be over this, and I need you at the top of your game or we're all going to die!"

She finally exploded back at him. Two days of fake quiet calm and she finally explodes, which is of course exactly what he was going for. He wasn't having anymore her calm and collected facade.

"I am never going to be over it, Clint!" She stood up. "This isn't one trauma, this is my whole life! This is my very physical body that isn't ever going to be normal! Why can't you just accept that I'm never going to be okay, I can't be okay! I am a weapon that's pretending to be a person! I'm barely even human anymore!"

"You're right!" He shouted abruptly in her face. She froze.

"You are a sadistic, bloodthirsty woman." He advanced and she took a step back. There we go, now we're getting there.

"You are by anyone's definition a monster! You are perfectly meticulously manufactured weapon!"

She retreated into the bed, eyes wide.

"You're awful! You're a liar and a thief and a murderer and do you know what else you are?"

He took her by the shoulders, pushed her down, and got right in her face.

"You're mine."

Natasha's terrified expression morphed into one of alarmed confusion.

"You're the most beautiful, the strongest, and the most caring person I know. Anyone who has been through the horrible things you have and still has any capacity to love is amazing, and you love more that anyone I know. You were programmed and built for war and chaos and fear and yet you love, you defend, and you pacify. You work to be better. You are strong, you keep fighting, and you don't loose yourself. You're incredible, Tasha."

There were tears in her eyes. She still hadn't moved.

"I don't expect you to be perfectly at ease with your past, but I have the privilege of expecting you to be stronger than it, and I have the honor of being the person who can help you through it."

He pressed his forehead to hers.

"So please, please, don't tell me you're okay when you aren't. Let me help you."

She was crying now, which was exactly what Clint was going for. He sat up and held his arms out.

"Come here, you. See, you're still human, I can make you cry."

"I hate you," she mumbled as she crawled over to him and let him hide her in his arms.

"No you don't," he whispered into her hair.

She cried.

"You wanna go spar?" he said after a few minutes.

She opened her eyes.

"Race you to the pasture." She sprung out of bed and sprinted through the building, with him right on her heels.


End file.
